A Far Greater Toll
by Scrapmask
Summary: Roseline's really screwed up this time. She's landed her boss in trouble with a local gang. Now her only hope is to enlist a ragtag band of Lost mercenaries. But is the price she's paying too steep?   A "Changeling: The Lost" fan fic *COMPLETE*
1. Chapter 1

"A Far Greater Toll"

by Scrapmask

Chapter One

The brake fluid sputtered out, slowing to a drip.

"That's good, Pete. You can ease off the breaks," Rosaline said.

She wiped the sweat off her forehead with the back of one greasy hand. Thankfully, her brown hair was pulled back out of her eyes. Her hands ran briskly over her coveralls, smearing grime over what was already covered in stains from days of work. She'd have to get around to cleaning the uniform soon.

Her apparently pink flesh was smeared with the debris of the garage. But beneath her Glamour, the dark oils mixed with the blue lines carved into her tinted skin.

Pete, her coworker, stuck his head out of the driver's side window. "What'd you say?"

"No more! You're done."

Pete nodded and ducked back into the window.

The car was pretty old. Roseline liked old. Muscle cars like this one came to Bridgewater Auto for Roseline by name. Their owners claimed she was a lucky charm.

"Nobody can make a car run smoother than Ros!"' they'd claim.

"She talks to them," others said.

Word about her expertise spread fast.

Truth be told, she did speak to them. They roared and purred and choked and sputtered at her, and told her stories. Stories about their maladies, their drivers, and their breakdowns. Then she'd start weaving her power over them. The way she wove her Wyrd was always delicate and thoughtful.

Working on cars reminded her of the times she'd spent in the driveway as a teenager, toying around with her junker. It reminded her of a time before.

Before she had spent her nights sleeping in a monstrous mechanical labyrinth.

She couldn't tell how much of that damned place had been a dream. She liked to think of it all as one giant nightmare. Still, whenever she looked in the mirror, she saw her sickly skin and the blue scars dug into her otherwise smooth face and arms. Her markings from Arcadia.

Pete opened the car door and climbed out, almost bumping into Mark, the shop manager, as he walked up. Mark sidestepped the door.

"Ros, you're moving through that thing pretty fast." Mark asked, "We'll be able to get that back to him by tomorrow, you think?"

With a nod, Roseline spoke. "It was nothing. You or Pete could have handled it without me."

"No way in hell was that guy letting anyone touch that thing but you."

She smiled at the compliment. "Stop it, you'll make me blush," she joked.

There was a distant sound of a door opening. Mark cursed.

Ros craned her head to see two men… kids really. Maybe early twenties. They both wore jeans and tee shirts. One smiled wide, his dark skin offsetting his white teeth; his blue bandana kept his braided hair covered. The other had lightly tanned skin, and looked angry at the world. His blue bandana wrapped around his neck, partially covered by his hoodie.

Braided Hair threw open his arms.

"Mark, man!" He drew her boss's name out, making it longer. "It's that time of the month!"

"Stay here," Mark whispered to Roseline and Pete.

Her boss walked towards Braided Hair and Hoodie Kid, his tense movements betraying him. He led the two into his office.

Roseline exchanged a look with Pete.

This had been happening every month for the past year. Two young Crips came in and collected 'protection' money. It was abnormal to see Crips this far south, outside of Newark, but they were spreading. Either that or some young punks figured that they were tough representing the notorious gang.

Roseline kept her head down and continued working. If she tried to help, she'd just make things worse. Negotiations tended to break down when you punch someone in the face.

Keeping out of the way became much harder when she heard Mark shout in terror.

Roseline chanced another glance at Pete, who had paused his sweeping.

The punks had never attacked Mark before. It was always over in a couple of minutes. Nice and quiet.

Mark didn't have the money. She knew it.

Roseline stood up and strode to the door, grabbing a red monkey wrench on her way. She was fed up with twelve months of this bullshit.

Pete shook his head and stepped in her path. "No way, Ros."

"They're attacking him!" She flailed the wrench erratically, causing Pete to duck out of her way.

Another yelp came from the office.

Roseline pushed by, even though Pete grabbed at her. She couldn't stand to let someone be pushed around like that!

She quickly closed the distance between the garage and the office door. Pete cursed and tried to catch her, but the door was already open. Roseline was out of her cage.

Through the open door, Ros saw Mark, arm twisted and head pinned to his desk by Hoodie Kid. Without thinking, she set to business. The kid would be lucky not to have a concussion, getting his head beamed by a monkey-wrench. He almost hit the floor.

Braided Hair spun around fast enough to take a metal shot to the gut. He lifted off the ground for a split second, and landed on his knees. From the sound of the coughing and retching, he was trying not to vomit from the devastating blow.

Ros put her steel-toed boot into Hoodie Kid's side. Hard. He bounced off the wall.

Her arm found Braided Hair and grabbed him by his neck. She lifted him up and pinned him to the wall with the wrench.

Her nostrils flared. Her heart raced. She could hear the machine pulsing around her again. The thick, metallic, oily taste of the air. See the strange beasts that lived there. How they used to hunt her. Until she learned to hunt them. Feed on them. How she'd trained the other humans she met in the monstrous device. How she'd survived.

She was the hunter again now in that auto shop.

When the thug's open mouth drooled on her hand, she was shocked back to reality. She pulled herself away fast, letting him drop.

Both kids scrambled out of the room before she could speak. She looked around. Mark was nursing his arm.

Pete came to the door after the young Crips sprinted out the side door. He looked at her in disbelief.

"Jeez, Ros! You scared the hell out of those guys!" He laughed, before Mark shot him an angry look.

Ros figured his ego was just bruised… until he spoke.

"They'll come back with more creeps," Mark growled. "You should have stayed out of it, Ros."

Roseline huffed and began to protest. "But they were—"

"Damn it, Ros! I could take an ass kicking. I can't take what they're going to do to us now!"

"I just…"

Mark said, "Now I have to call the cops."

Ros snorted. If the gangs weren't already buying them out.

Her boss cursed under his breath, pulling out a phone book to find the number to the police station.

Roseline let the wrench fall to her side. It swayed at hip level as she took a few deep breaths. She felt the hunter receding. She clenched her eyes shut for a moment, regaining her composure.

It was unlikely the cops were going to watch the garage twenty-four seven. As soon as protection wasn't around, all the cars on the premises would have their tires slashed and windows smashed in. The garage's tools would all be stolen and their paperwork burned. Then, for good measure, they'd tag the place.

It would be the end of the business if that happened. They all knew it.

Ros scolded herself for being so impulsive. If she hadn't let her temper get the better of her, Mark wouldn't be in this predicament.

A thought struck Roseline like a bolt. "Wait! Wait! What if I could go talk to them?"

Pete shook his head. "And what? Give them another concussion?"

Mark picked up the phone and began dialing, ignoring the two of them.

Roseline pressed down on the receiver hook. She could hear the dial tone.

"Ros..." Mark warned.

"Hear me out. What if I could scare those punks away? Round up a mob of my own." She said with determination, "Get some actual protection for us?"

Both men stared at her, incredulous. Nobody said anything.

Ros broke the silence, saying, "We could make it not worth their while to extort us anymore."

"These are street thugs we're talking about," Pete argued. "They'll shank you if you try that. Hell, they might shoot you just for what you just did today!"

Mark ran a hand through his disheveled graying hair. He surveyed the desk, the scattered papers, his now broken lamp. "There's nobody who'd help us like that."

Ros smirked. "I think I know some guys."


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

Roseline only knew about the Tolltaker Knighthood from the summer gatherings of her Court. If rumors were to be believed, they were ruthless mercenaries that you could hire to deal with both mortals and other Lost.

She asked the Summer Court, and found out they hung around a pub most nights. It didn't take her long to find the place. It was in a small brick building a few blocks off Main Street. Neon signs advertised beers with no particular loyalty to one brand over another. The door was big and wooden, with a brass bar across the front. She leaned on the brass bar, sliding the door open into the shockingly quiet pub.

A television silently played the latest baseball game. The bartender chatted with one of the only two patrons at the bar.

Roseline glanced around and saw a booth in the corner housing what must have been her targets. Five men, varying in age.

A wiry-looking man with sharp black eyes and an oversized maw of jagged teeth smiled wide and drank his dark draught. A wolfish man with thick sideburns chuckled along.

Across the table sat an older man. His skin was pale white, and his hair coated with frost. His eyes were made of ice. Next to him was an broad-backed man with long curved horns, a soft smirk playing across his face. Buried at the back of the table was what looked to be a green skinned homeless man. A long beard flared out from his broad chin.

The Lost always had a knack for seeing through the Masks they put on for mortals. Their otherworldly visage exposed them for what they were.

Roseline walked up to the five men without hesitating. She sat down at the booth, eliciting curious stares from Big Man and Frosty. Wolf Man snickered and nudged Beard-o as he lifted a drink to his lips.

Smiley glanced at her. He flicked his tweed cap up from his eyes and leaned over to her, saying, "Excuse me, little lady, but are you lost?"

She glared at him. "You can see through my Mask."

There came a round of stifled laughter from the table. Ros realized too late the play on words.

Wolf Man piped up. "You got the order of the approach wrong!" He said, "You buy him a drink, and then after he accepts you come over, and then you make with the awkwardly chit-chat."

"I'm here to put out a bounty," she said, all business.

The laughter shuddered for a moment. Except Wolf Man, who found this even more hilarious.

"Oh, so this ain't a social call?" Smiley's eyes flickered with delight.

Wolf Man scratched at his excessively fuzzy sideburns and bared his fangs in a broad smile. Ros only then noticed his ears were pointed and furry.

Wolf Man said, "An' here I was hoping the pretty girl was looking for a healthy romp in a bathroom stall."

Frosty smacked Wolf Man. "Shut up you fool. Let her talk."

Ros shifted in her seat. "I'm having some trouble with a gang."

"Oh, a gang. Terrible folk." Smiley said, as he leaned towards Ros, "You know, they're only unfriendly 'cause gang-stas all want to be gang-sters. But they're the wrong color."

The Wolf Man howled. With laughter.

Beard-o joined in for good measure.

Big Man hunched over and hushed his voice. "I apologize for them. They are a little drunk."

"Hell, they're like this sober," Frosty said as he folded his arms. "They don't need alcohol to silly them up."

With a sigh, Roseline spoke up. "They've been extorting from my garage for a little over a year now. I… I upset them this time, and I am afraid they are going to attack us. We need protection."

Smiley sobered up a little at this. "You do know we need proof before we crack any skulls, right?"

His smile never wavered.

"I can have my boss and coworker's testimony tomorrow," Ros said with purpose.

With a nod, Smiley looked at Big Man.

"Ox," he said, "you go talk to them tomorrow. See if what she says is true. If that checks out, we might have a job on our hands." He thumbed his nose before speaking again. "And what can we be expecting for payment?"

"Flash yer tits!" Wolf Man barked, eyes alight.

Frosty smacked him.

Ros frowned at them, her brow knitted. She wasn't sure if she liked these guys. Hell, you don't have to like them, you just need their help.

"We don't have much money. That's why we have the problem in the first place. We could repair your cars for free?" She offered lamely.

Frosty scoffed. "That's hardly worth giving the gang a noogie, let alone an ass whoopin'."

Smiley lifted his hand, silencing the older man. "In our line of business, we do sometimes wreck a vehicle or three. But he's right. It's not enough. We need more."

Her mind raced for a minute, trying to figure out what she could possibly offer them in exchange for the job.

In a last ditch effort, she blurted out, "I'll work for you!"

Silence fell on the table. She hesitated. Should she really be making a deal with these guys like that?

Ox spoke up first. "Are you sure you can do what we do? You are kind of… small."

"And a broad," Wolf Man added.

"I can fight. I can help you guys! I'll work for free. You can send me on any jobs you want. I won't even complain." She rattled off her list of qualifications, feeling herself gaining momentum. "I'll be an asset. I promise. I am true to my word!"

Smiley shook his head. "We're all men of our word. It comes with the territory. I don't doubt you. But you don't understand: we beat the piss out of people on a regular basis. It doesn't seem like your kind of work."

Roseline smirked at him. "I'd kick your ass."

Smiley laughed.

"You couldn't kick Softee's ass!" he said, pointing his thumb at Beard-o.

"Hey! I think I'm offended!" Softee murmured.

Ros eyed Softee across the table. She held out her hand to the leader. "You're on."

Smiley glared at the hand for a few moments before taking it in a handshake. Wolf Man suddenly got very excited. He jumped up and yelled, "Oh, it is ON!"

Smiley grinned at her. "You and Softee in the parking lot. Now."

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><p><strong>Author Note: <strong>Thanks to OllieLemur for Editing.

Please Review! It would be greatly appreciated.

What do you think of the Knights?

More Chapters coming very soon!


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three

All six of them filed out into the parking lot. There were only four cars and a street light. It wasn't much of a parking lot. More of a patch of asphalt on the side of the road. But they formed a semi-circle anyway.

Ros stretched a little, ignoring a few snide remarks from Wolf Man and Smiley.

Softee, as they called him, just stood across from her. He held his arms at his side, his tee shirt dark and his jeans even darker. He was maybe half a foot taller than her, and he seemed kind of slim.

"First one down for the count loses," Smiley said, doing his best to sound like an announcer.

Wolf Man joined in. "Let's get ready to RUMMMMBLE! DING, DING!" He made the bell sound and started clapping.

Ox folded his arms, and Frosty kept his hands in his jacket pockets.

Softee stood still for a moment.

Roseline dropped into position, ready to pounce. When he just glared at her, she decided to make the first move. She ran at him, and threw a wide right hook. Her punch made it through his tangled beard and, upon contact with his jaw, she felt like she had shattered her fist.

She recoiled, holding her hand. He'd was as hard as rock! She flexed her hand while Smiley and Wolf Man laughed.

Softee strode over to Ros and backhanded her. She fell backwards, catching herself. She rounded on him and punched him in the stomach. She was met with more rock.

Softee threw a devastating blow to her left rib, forcing the air from her lungs.

He's using magic. The bastard! Ros thought.

He grabbed her swinging arm and hit her under the opposite rib. She yelped in pain. This was hardly going well.

She needed a different approach.

She dove at his midsection, taking him off his feet. Once he hit the ground, she climbed on top of him and threw a few punches at his eyes. Still hard as rock, but he was clearly having trouble seeing her through the flurry of blows.

She was the hunter again.

She was pouncing on her prey. She remembered the heat rising from the bodies of her kills in comparison to the cold brass and copper machine around her.

Softee grabbed her midsection and threw her off of him. He rolled over and got on his knees.

As he climbed to his feet, Ros jumped on him and grabbed his tee shirt. While he was off balance, she spun him around, throwing him head first into a car door.

Wolf Man shouted as a massive dent was put in the backside passenger door. "My car!"

Roseline knew she didn't stand a chance if he got back on his feet, so she kicked him a few times with her steel toed boots. It felt like concrete, but the shock pushed him towards the car more. She grabbed the handle to the back door and prayed it was unlocked.

The door opened as she tugged on the handle. She grabbed Softee by his ratty hair. And bashed his head on the side of the frame. Then she slammed the door on him.

There was a round of sympathetic but delighted moans and curses from the small crowd.

She slammed the door again. Praying he could take it.

Softee wobbled as he tried to get to his feet. Ros slammed his head in the car door one more time. He dropped face first onto the asphalt.

Silence fell as she drew in her breath, steady and rhythmic. Her hands and sides ached every time she breathed deep.

Eventually, Smiley spoke. "Alright. You're in."

She exhaled, saying, "How long?"

"Year and a day."

She laughed. "Too long. Try until… the first fallen leaves… of Autumn." She managed to gasp out.

"You're busting my balls here! We'll take you until the first flowers of spring."

"First snowfall."

Smiley laughed. "Bustin' my balls…. Fine. First snowfall."

The pact was sealed.

Ox leaned over and whispered to Smiley. He nodded.

"You start tomorrow. You'll go break some bones with Ox, Softee, and Carson here," he said, gesturing to Wolf Man. "Hell, I'll even call Shady Mike."

"And you're fixing my damn car!" Carson, the Wolf Man, chimed in. "For free, like you said!"

She rolled her eyes at him.

Frosty walked to her and reached out his hand. She grasped it firmly and breathed deep. His hand was freezing.

He said, "Folks call me Remus."

"I'm Ros," she said, her breathing heavy but steadying.

Ox helped Softee up from the head trauma he had just gone through.

Ros reached out a hand. "Is he alright?"

Softee groaned and held his head. He waved her away.

Ox chuckled. "Softee's a tough one. Nothing a few beers can't solve."

Ros held her sides and turned away to see Smiley standing next to her. His razor sharp maw spread wide in his shit-eating grin.

"I think I owe you a drink after that." He patted her on the back. "Name's Flynn, by the way. Kaye Flynn."


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four**

The next day, Carson and his damaged car picked Roseline up from work. Ox sat in the front, with Softee, herself, and a blue-skinned burly guy wearing a hoodie and sunglasses in the back.

"You must be Shady Mike," she said as she climbed in the car.

"Yeah," he muttered.

Ox spoke as Carson put the car in gear. "Forgive him. He's the silent type. He usually only speaks in monosyllabic utterances."

Carson added, "It's his thing."

Roseline had her balled up coveralls under one arm, leaving her dirty tee shirt and torn jeans exposed. She pulled some hair out of her face. "So, where is this place?"

"Shady Mike says the Crips usually meet at this abandoned warehouse on Grove Street." Ox said, "If we're lucky, we'll find them there."

Ros nodded, then asked politely, "How's your head, Softee?"

"Still hurts, but that's the hangover. Not the mob hit you did on my skull."

"Tough as nails, that S.O.B.," Carson bragged.

Within fifteen minutes, they were on Grove Street. Roseline noted the street was lined with cars… even though it was an industrial complex. The gang was clearly here, and not caring to hide it.

Smug bastards.

The car parked and they all filed out. Carson popped open the trunk, and began pulling old, unpolished metal hunks from it. It took Roseline a moment to realize that chunks were pieces of armor.

As Carson slapped on a breastplate, Ros cocked an eyebrow. "You wear armor?"

Carson handed Ox a second breastplate. "You got a problem with that?"

"It makes us appear like an organization," Ox attached the breastplate to his chest as he spoke. "We all show up in the same uniform, we seem to be scarier to people. You'd be surprised how often it works."

Carson plopped a helmet on his head. "Plus, I look dead sexy in full regalia."

Shady Mike pulled on a chainmail shirt that was perfectly fitted to him. He hooked on a helmet.

Softee didn't need any armor; he just stood there with his dirty tee shirt and pants.

Carson handed a chainmail ball to Ros. "Put it on."

Ros unrolled the mess and found a shirt that was three times her size. "This goes all the way to my knees!"

"It's all we had on short notice. We'll get you fitted later."

"Where do you even get this stuff?"

Carson grinned. "Trade secret."

Ox handed her a large metal pipe. He shouldered a crowbar. Carson pulled out an aluminum bat and swung it a few times.

Ros said, "Don't Mike and Softee get weapons?"

There was general laughter in response.

"We do better with our bare hands," Softee said.

"Taking on entire crowds of people are their specialty." Carson warned, "Just remember to keep your head down when the fighting starts. Bodies will be flying!"

As she lifted the chainmail shirt over her head, Ox said, "Pro tip, aim for joints. If you cripple someone in one shot, they are out of the fight."

Once Ros had the chainmail on, the group proceeded towards the door of the warehouse. Ox grabbed the large metal door and threw it open. In the dim lighting inside, they saw about two dozen eyes all turn to them.

Carson led the way into the building, letting his bat swing at his side. Ox and the others filed in after him with Ros taking up the back.

There was a lot of whispering and cursing. Nobody moved.

Roseline began to feel like a caged animal. She was trapped inside this box with over twenty men, all wearing blue to show their loyalties. She must have been crazy to have signed up for this. Who just walks into hostile territory like this?

Eventually the silence broke when one gang member with a shaved head stepped forward.

"The fuck is this?" Shaved Head said, "You some Renaissance Faire faggots?"

Laughter rolled through the crowd.

Carson stared him down.

"Oi!" He belted, "I'm from jolly ole England!"

Carson swung his bat.

He was fast, and nailed Shaved Head right in his knee, causing his leg to bend in unnatural ways. Shaved Head hit the floor, screaming.

The crowd tensed. Knives were drawn and thugs stood, ready to fight.

Ox lifted his weapon, and Ros followed in suit. Shady Mike and Softee both dropped into fighting stances. They all turned back to back, as if by instinct.

A man wearing a blue hat began screaming, "Motherfuckers! Don't you know who you're fucking with? We will fucking kill you!"

"You guys sure say 'fuck' a lot," Carson snarked.

Ox bellowed, "We are protecting Bridgewater Auto. You keep your filthy hands off of them, and you won't be harmed."

Braided Hair kid found his way out of the crowd, and signaled out Ros. "Yo," he said, "that's the bitch that hit me with a fucking wrench."

Blue Hat pointed at them. "Someone ventilate these bitches."

Right near Roseline a thug reached into his pants and drew a gun. He pointed it at Ox.

Not smart.

Because Ros could speak with machines. And a firing mechanism is a very simple machine.

Reflexively, her hand shot out to grab the gun. She gently asked it to stop working and, after a few loud clicks and no shot, thrust her metal pipe into the gunman's chest, throwing him backwards. She yanked the gun from his hand as he fell.

She threw the firearm to the ground, confident it wouldn't harm anyone.

Then the room exploded.

Thugs charged in, some bare handed, some armed with knives or tools they'd had lying around. Ox spun around and swept a few of them off their feet with his crowbar.

Ros had to duck as Softee threw a knife-wielding thug over her head.

She got to her feet in time to feel a knife hit her chainmail right where her kidneys were. The knife bounced off the armor. She drew her elbow back into the punk's face, breaking his nose.

She swung her pipe, hitting one thug in the wrist, causing him to drop his knife. She heard cartilage pop. Her hunter began to rage inside of her. She wanted blood.

She thrust the pipe up, catching the kid's jaw. There was a crunching sound. She swore as a tooth came out of the kid as he sputtered, stumbling backwards.

Carson was having a blast, swinging his bat and singing Take Me Out to the Ballgame. He beamed one gang member upside the head, and shouted, "Out of the park!"

Ros caught sight of Shady Mike slamming one thug into another, using him as a bludgeon. Mike lifted the thug far over his head, with a single hand, and smashed him on the cement floor below.

Thank god for magic, Ros thought.

Softee could be seen boxing a few thugs at once, taking knife strike after knife strike with little fear for his wellbeing. One of the thugs actually broke their blade on his hardened skin.

Ox kicked a punk to the ground, and thrust his crowbar's bent end into someone else's neck, causing them to choke and drop the gun they'd just drawn. A kid jumped on Ox's broad back, and Ox bucked. He slung the kid over his shoulder, driving his head into the concrete.

The crowd was thinning out and backing off.

A hush fell as the five Tolltakers returned to their original position near the door, back to back, all their weapons and fists at the ready.

The remaining ten unharmed gang members were shaken up. Close to a dozen punks lied unconscious or injured from the brief fight.

Roseline couldn't believe her eyes. They'd actually taken out half their crew, being outnumbered. The Knights knew how to fight.

Carson laughed as he spoke, "Who's the leader here?"

Silence.

He lifted his bat and lunged at one of the nearby thugs. He menaced. "Who's in charge?"

The punk panicked and pointed to one of the downed soldiers whose nose was busted. Someone had shattered his hand. Carson grabbed the leader by the shirt and lifted him to his feet. The kid flinched and spat blood on Carson.

Carson just hooted and head-butt the kid, his metal helmet almost knocking the thug unconscious.

"Bridgewater Auto is under our protection. You understand?" He barked, "I said DO YOU UNDERSTAND?"

The thug nodded, afraid of another blow.

Excitement coursed through her veins. She couldn't believe it. The shop was going to be safe. If these guys were smart, they'd just take the beating and call it a day.

She felt her predator pacing inside of her, itching for more violence. But nobody came forward. They all looked far too scared to move. She clenched her fist a few times to let some of her tension out.

Ox shouldered his crowbar. "If you do anything to harm that shop or its employees," he threatened the crowd, "we'll come back. With more of us. And we won't stop next time."

Carson dropped the gang leader and sauntered towards the door. Whistling.

The party followed him. Roseline was breathing deeply, feeling the frenzy dying down in her as they proceeded to exit.

Shady Mike stopped to pick up the few dropped guns, putting them in his jacket.

"Mine," he muttered.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter Five

A week later, Ros was breaking the fingers of a young man who hadn't paid his bookie. The week after that, she knocked a negligent mother unconscious in front of her husband. He didn't dare raise a hand against Ros.

She and Remus wound up trashing a drug addict's house when a spurned associate offered up his dreams for a year to Flynn and the Knights. She joined Softee when he dislocated a restaurant manager's arm after one of his employees paid cold hard cash. Her hunter went to work as Ox and Carson helped her pummel a few bouncers at a disreputable bar. And she couldn't hide her thrill when she knocked the teeth out of a bodega owner's mouth.

Her rash of violence was not exclusively against mortals, though. She found herself tracking down Darklings to collect on broken pacts. She wound up with a sprained wrist courtesy of a raging Ogre, but Ox took care of him with a few swings of his trusty crowbar. Before the wrist even healed, Flynn sent her to rough up a Changeling entrepreneur. His wooden skin cracked under her blows. He begged her to stop but she hit him once more for good measure, a reminder not to cross the Summer Court. She hit him again for herself.

It felt good to be the hunter again.

The Tolltaker Knights didn't seem to care how moral their jobs were or not. The guys just looked for proof that the approaching client had been wronged in some way by the mark. If they could provide proof-and the price was right-the Knights would show up on the mark's doorstep, armor-clad and bats in hand.

Roseline couldn't help but notice that most of their jobs went rather smoothly. Too smoothly in fact. When she brought it up one afternoon, back at the pub per usual, there was the typical laughter before Flynn explained.

"It's part of the contract," he said. "We put a bounty on someone, and they suddenly have very bad luck."

"Worse luck once I show up," Carson chimed in, toasting his beer with nobody.

Ros asked, "Don't people hate you guys for it?"

"Who would you rather hate," Remus remarked, "the brute who can shatter your kneecaps? Or the moron who put the bounty on you in the first place?"

Carson was not too busy finishing his beer to add, "But most of them won't fight back. Too afraid their enemies have enough dough to pay us again."

Much of Ros' summer went on like this, a job every week, until the leaves began to fall. Then things picked up.

She was pulling jobs afterhours with the Tolltakers to pay off her debt, while working on old cars at the auto shop during the day. The jobs the Knights carried out weren't exactly surgical procedures. Not by a long shot. She was occasionally bogged down at work when one of the Knights would show up at the garage, needing a new car door after an angry assailant fired a shotgun. Or when they broke their headlights throwing a mark into them.

There tended to be a lot of collateral damage. It was beyond Ros how they avoided the notice of the police. Either they were very lucky, or there were Changelings working on the police force covering up for them. But she kept her mouth shut, like she'd promised. She silently went to work, fixing cars one hour and breaking limbs the next.

One night, late in November, Ros was locking the door to the garage as she left. She could smell frost in the air. The leaves had all fallen now, leaving little crunchy patches on the pavement as she walked towards her Buick.

A car came screeching into the parking lot. She recognized it as Carson's right away. His window was rolled down. He shouted at her, "Get in the car!"

Ros sighed, and pulled her dark hair up into a ponytail. She sensed another job coming on. "Why? Who's got the problem?"

Carson looked at her blankly for a moment. "Well, that ruined my dramatic entrance."

She kept walking towards her car. "If there's another job, I could drive there myself, you know."

"Nah." Carson shook his head. "We're going to see a movie."

"A movie?" Ros looked at him suspiciously. "As in a date?"

"Why? Do I have a shot?" He flashed a grin, wiggling his thick eyebrows.

"No."

"Well, either way, it's not a date. It's movie night with the boys!" He waved her over. "Hop on in."

She slowly climbed into the car. Movie night?

Carson sped off.

* * *

><p>Sooner than Ros realized they were at the VFW hall. She'd spent half the car ride exchanging quips with Carson, who never seemed out of things to talk about. She was surprised to find herself chatting back.<p>

Already there were a number of cars parked outside. Ros saw Softee and Flynn on the steps, smoking.

Carson parked his car and climbed out. When Ros followed suit, Flynn waved to the both of them.

Carson ran up. She heard him ask, "Can I bum one?"

Softee objected. "You've already bummed a whole pack from me!"

"I'll owe ya," Carson said. Softee reluctantly dug out his pack from the recesses of his grimy hobo-clothes.

Roseline walked up, the smell of smoke strong despite the autumn breeze sweeping it away.

She said to Flynn, "What's this all about?"

"Movie night." Flynn said between drags, "We have them from time to time. Usually once a month. We decided to invite you for a change."

She eyed the three in silence for a moment. Why were they inviting her now all of a sudden?

"So…" Ros said, "What are we watching?"

Flynn smiled. His razor-sharp yellowed teeth sat in contrast with his tan skin. "An old classic. One of my favorites."

He threw the stub of his cigarette to the ground and stomped it out. He signaled for her to follow. She did.

Inside, Ox was moving chairs around and setting out a table for them. Against the far wall Remus was pulling down a projector screen. Once it was set he made his way to a clunky looking projector attached to a laptop.

Ros saw a CD binder on the table. She flipped it open and was astonished by the amount of classic films. Court Jester, Sherlock Holmes, Three Musketeers… as well as dozens of movies she'd never heard of. And only half of them appeared to be legal copies. Most just had the title scrawled across a blank disc with a sharpie. "You guys rent this place to watch old films?"

"I always say the boys need a little more culture. Plus, there's a bar downstairs," Flynn said with a grin. "That helps."

Ox sat down at the table. He pulled out a plastic bag full of chips and snacks. "Tonight we're watching Cyrano De Bergerac," he said to Ros. "Jose Ferrer's career defining role."

Carson and Softee stepped inside, finished smoking.

"Is Shady Mike here yet?" Carson said, looking around. "Dude owes me a drink."

Flynn shook his head. "He might be late, man. If he shows up at all. You know how he is."

"Bah!" Carson spat, waving his hands dismissively before disappearing downstairs. Softee sat behind the laptop and opened the DVD folder, placing a disc carefully in the tray.

Ros helped Ox open the bags of chips. She asked, "Do you always watch black and white films?"

She popped a chip into her mouth.

Flynn nodded. "And old Technicolor action flicks. Captain Blood, Robin Hood, Scaramouche… We've seen them all."

Carson came back up with a handful of beers from the bar downstairs. He made a hooting noise and handed one to Ros, who accepted it graciously.

As the drinks and the snacks were passed around, and the movie prepared, Ros noticed how the guys functioned like a well-oiled machine. Each person played their part, with Ros helping to keep things going where she could.

Remus finished adjusting the settings on the Projector while Softee fidgeted with the laptop. Softee eventually managed to get the DVD screen to start playing. After a few seconds he had the sound synced "We're good to go." He shouted to Flynn.

"Movies on, boys! Pick your seats." Flynn slapped his hands together and rubbed them excitedly before turning off the lights.

Ros sat next to Ox. Once the lights were out she joined by Flynn. He picked up his beer and toasted hers. The movie credits rolled.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter Six

As the opening credits ended and the first scene of the movie played, Ros couldn't believe how much the movie engrossed the Knights. The Knights politely drank their beers at first, ate their chips, and watched the film. Then she caught Ox and Flynn quoting along with the lines, destroying the notion that this was their first time seeing the performance. As Ros watched, she began to feel the reverence that the Knights were projecting at the screen.

Every once in a while, Flynn made a trip downstairs for more beers, helping everyone fight off sobriety.

Halfway through the movie, Shady Mike slipped in, walked past the projector to a chorus of boos and hisses, and joined them in the audience.

Roxanne and Cyrano exchanged lines, and Flynn softly quoted Cyrano's final monologue along with Ferrer, matching the inflection and delivery. When Cyrano fell, a silence hit the Knights. Roseline could have sworn that Carson was tearing up.

In the dark they sat, as the movie faded to black.

Ox and Flynn stood up and began clapping, hooting and hollering. It was Remus who hit the lights and began dismantling the setup. Softee began picking up the finished beers and throwing the cans out. Ros finished her sixth drink before handing the bottle to Softee.

Ox nudged Carson and held out a napkin.

"Hey, need a tissue?" He stifled a laugh.

"Fuck you." Carson slapped his hand out of the way.

The Knights all chuckled as Carson rubbed at his eyes with the balls of his palms.

Flynn nudged Ros, holding up a pack of cigarettes. "Want a smoke?"

Roseline thought for a second, then gave a drunken nod. She followed him outside, skillfully avoiding tripping as she tried to sober up a little.

Once outside, Flynn handed her a cigarette. She put it to her lips, and took a deep breath as he held a lighter to the tip. Her exhale was a mix of smoke and steam from her hot breath in the cold autumn night. When the world did a little jerk, she decided to sit down.

She slunk down to the cement stairs below her. Ros pulled her knees and wrapped her arms around them, only occasionally lifting the cigarette to her lips. After a few silent exhales, she spoke.

"They really take the movies seriously, don't they?"

Flynn nodded. "It makes them feel like humans again."

"They were so… reverent. It was like they really appreciated what was happening."

Flynn cocked an eyebrow. "What, they can't like old movies?"

Ros shook her head. "It's not like that. They just really… connected with Cyrano."

"And every other swashbuckler out there. I think they like how black and white it is. Makes it seem easy to be a good guy."

Ros turned this over in her head. How some hired mercenaries could relate to classical heroes was beyond her. "Do they think they are those heroes?"

Flynn puffed his cigarette. After a moment he shrugged. "They're—We're out of place. It helps to pick someone to emulate."

"But we hurt people for a living. How is that heroic?"

"Not without proof." Flynn said sternly. He pointed his cigarette at her as he spoke. "These guys are warriors. They do what they can to cope with that. So do you."

Silence fell between the two.

Crickets chirped.

Ros coughed. "I haven't smoke in forever. Not since… not since before Arcadia." She hesitated as she remembered the Machine.

Flynn exhaled enough smoke to rival a dragon. "What made you quit?"

Ros contemplated the lit cigarette in her inebriated state. "I guess I just never picked it back up after I made it home."

"Lucky. I've tried to quit six times. Can't stop my pack a day ways." Flynn chuckled a little.

Ros fell silent again. After a moment she looked up at Flynn and spoke. "Do you remember that place?"

Flynn let out an exasperated sigh and dropped his cigarette butt. He snubbed it out with his boot.

"More than I'd like," he said. "They used to make me clean their stoves. They were too big to do it themselves, so they got stout little ole' me. Had to survive off of the scraps I managed to dig out of the oven."

He hit his chest, making a loud singular cadence.

"Made me strong like bull. And skinny like… rail. " He laughed slightly, then became very distant. His eyes focused on nothing, as his mind focused on his durance.

"They never fed me either," Ros said. "I had to hunt and kill the strange creatures that wandered into the labyrinth. Or whatever it was. "

She puffed her cigarette, contemplating.

She continued, "I don't know what he was trying to build, but you could get lost in it. It was massive. He just kept building and building. I think he took me to help him maintain it. But he just left me. Forgot about me."

Flynn nodded silently, lighting another cigarette as she spoke.

"I found others like me. There to… I don't know, help with the device? No tools, no instructions. They were just dropped in that maze of a machine. We taught each other," she said. "How to hide. How to hunt. When we first started making weapons out of the machine's pieces, the builder would show up to repair it. He'd ignore us, obviously. But he would fix it and then disappear. After a while we tried to ambush him."

Ros took a deep breath. She held back tears as she said, "He killed a lot of us. Only a few escaped. After that, we learned which pieces we could take without disrupting the machine. They started to look to me for direction. They began to think I was their pack leader. They followed my every word. I was responsible for feeding them. Keeping them safe. Until I…"

Ros fell silent. A tear rolled down her cheek.

Flynn sat down next to her, cigarette in his mouth. He pulled it out and exhaled. He finished, "Until you escaped."

Ros nodded, another tear escaping her smoky eyes.

"I don't remember how it happened." She said softly, "I was with them one second, and the next I was in a public park, looking like I do now. I just sort of… fell out."

"You didn't choose to run away, though. You found a way out by accident."

"But I left them. I left them behind. I should be with them right now!" She shook her head. "I didn't mean to leave them."

Flynn put an arm around her and hugged her.

She looked at her cigarette, burnt down to the filter. She threw it away, leaned into Flynn, and hung her head low.

"You do what you can for your warriors," Flynn said, calmly rubbing her arm. "But it's up to them to carry on the battle, even if the captain falls. They are fighting the good fight, wherever they are."

Ros rubbed her eyes. "Is that why you watch these old films? To remind them to 'fight the good fight'?"

Flynn chuckled softly. "We watch them because they make us feel better. The hero always knows exactly what to say to the corrupt officials; he always knows what to do in a dire situation. He always rescues the maiden. He always wins."

Ros looked at him, cocking an eyebrow. "But Cyrano dies. And he never gets Roxanne's love."

Flynn laughed. "I suppose so. But in the end she does love him, once she knows he was the one who said those beautiful things to her."

He let Ros go, putting his arm back at his side.

Flynn said, "Cyrano stuck to his pride, and it cost him a life without his love."

"Is that the moral of this story?" Ros asked, a light smile playing across her face.

"No," Flynn said, scowling a little. "I just don't ever want to be that prideful."

They sat silently for a moment. The cold wind blew, kicking up Flynn's cigarette smoke, the sickly smell enveloping Ros.

Behind them, the door opened. Shady Mike came out, lit a cigarette and sat down next to them.

"Hey," he mumbled.

Flynn nodded to him, and rubbed his cigarette on the concrete steps, putting it out. He turned to Ros.

"I have a job for you," Flynn said. His tone had changed. They were no longer commiserating soldiers; He was now a commander giving orders to a subordinate.

Ros smirked. "All right. Who'm I taking with me?"

"No one. You go this one solo."

Ros cocked her head at him, intrigued by the idea. "Whose head am I cracking?"

Shady Mike pulled a napkin out of his pocket and handed it to her. It had only an address scrawled across it, as well as some coffee stains.

Ros looked at it and then back and forth between the two Tolltakers. "What's this?"

"That's the bounty," Flynn said as he stood up to stretch his legs. "This guy beat the hell out of his kid, put him in the hospital."

"Geez." Ros glanced at Shady Mike. "I assume you confirmed this?"

As Shady Mike nodded, Flynn said, "That's why he was late."

Ros stood. "So I'm going to beat up some guy for putting his son in the hospital? What's the bounty?"

"Pro bono," Flynn said, keeping his jaw set.

Ros looked at him in disbelief. She searched his face for some sign of a smirk, but found nothing. She said, "I didn't realize we were in the business of doing random acts of vigilantism."

Flynn snapped, "You going to do the job or not?"

"All right, all right," Roseline said. She had a creeping suspicion but kept her mouth shut. "Tonight?"

"Yeah. Mike, could you get Carson? He needs to take Ros back to her car."

Shady Mike stood up and dropped his cigarette.

"Bye," he said with a dismissive wave as he disappeared into the VFW.

"So… This is a serious job?" Ros matched Flynn's stern look.

"Very," he said. No smile on his face.

"Okay, boss."

Silence crept up on the two, and lingered until Carson came outside. He stopped in his tracks, looking tensely between the two. "Who died?"

"Cyrano," Ros said bitterly, before making her way to his car.


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter Seven**

It was approaching nine o'clock. Most people had their front porch lights on.

Roseline had no problem finding the place on Shady Mike's coffee-stained napkin. The house was nestled between other residential homes, with a small yard in the front. The house had its lights on. Someone was watching TV.

Ros parked her car a few blocks away. She climbed out and put on the chainmail shirt, letting it roll down to her knees. From the trunk, she pulled the metal pipe borrowed from Ox and swung it a few times.

She began her trek.

Ros was thankful that there weren't a lot of cars in the area. It helped her odd appearance go unnoticed.

She pulled the napkin out, just to double check this was the right place. Once she was satisfied it was her mark, she walked up to the front door. She flattened her back to the wall next to the door. She knocked, keeping her pipe at her side.

She heard rustling inside as she waited. Her breath sped up.

The door opened. There was silence for a moment, and then a man stepped out of the house.

She felt her hunter sneaking up on her.

Ros brought the pipe up and around the man's throat. She pulled him close to her, strangling him with the pipe.

The man gasped as he struggled. She made sure to dig her elbow into his side as she pinned him.

From behind him, she asked fiercely, "Are you the one who beat your kid to a pulp?"

The man thrashed and managed to spit out, "The fuck is this?"

Ros froze. She knew that voice.

She let go of the man, allowing him to fall forward away from her. In shock, she asked, "Mark?"

Mark rounded on her, holding his throat. He gasped for breath and caught sight of her.

"Ros? What the fuck was that?"

Her mind raced. She pulled out the napkin and checked the address a third time. It was correct.

There must be some mistake, she thought.

She tried to piece together what was happening, while her boss cursed some more. He said, "How'd you find my house? And … what the hell are you wearing?"

She stammered, "I was… I mean… I have to…"

It was then that she noticed Mark's knuckles. They were bruised and raw. She felt a sinking sensation in her stomach.

Her senses came back to her, reminding her of the job she had to do. She reached out and grabbed Mark by the shoulder.

"Mark, you have to tell me," she said. "Where is your son?"

Mark looked at her, rage in his eyes. For a second she didn't recognize him. She'd never seen him like this.

He snarled, "Why the fuck does that matter?"

She hissed, "Just tell me!"

Mark eyed her as he pulled his shoulder away. "He's in the hospital."

Shit.

"Mark. Why is he in the hospital?"

"Ros... If you know what's good for you, you'll leave right now." He pointed towards the street.

Her insides were in knots. Again, she asked, "Why is he in the hospital?"

"It's none of your business. Now, get the fuck out of here or you won't have a job tomorrow."

They're testing me, Ros realized.

The Tolltakers were making sure she was a woman of her word. They had dug up dirt on her boss. The man she had defended. The reason she was working for the Knights in the first place.

Makes it seem easy to be a good guy, Flynn had said. Ha.

"Mark," Ros asked as calmly as possible, "did you beat your son?"

Mark stood, made a fist and tried to stare her down.

"What if I did? Huh? Fucking kid needs to know who the boss is, right? And so do you. If you don't get your skinny ass off my front porch, I'm gonna—"

The pipe knocked the rest of the sentence out of his mouth.

Ros felt sick as Mark hit the ground.

She had made a pact… She had to follow through. Though the Wyrd compelled her, she wouldn't have squelched on her deal anyway. He was the bounty, after all.

He groaned, spitting blood.

Ros grabbed Mark by the shirt and lifted him. She got him to his feet, then shoved him back inside his house. He hit the wooden floor. She stepped inside and shut the door behind her.

A woman, horrified, screamed and ran for the phone. She followed Mark's wife and found her dialing 911. Ros couldn't have any of that.

She grabbed the phone cord and asked it politely to stop working. There wasn't even a dial tone for the woman to hear.

Ros ignored the shrieking woman as she saw Mark climbing back to his feet in the entryway. She strode up and drove her steel toed boot into his rib. She heard a satisfying crack.

Mark groaned and rolled over.

Ros loomed over him. She dropped to her knees, pressed the pipe against his throat, and pinned him to the floor.

"You beat your son so badly he's hospitalized right now. Correct?"

Mark sputtering, glaring at her.

Ros bellowed, "I said IS THAT CORRECT?"

Mark flinched and nodded.

There was a hint of laughter on her voice from the horror of her situation as she said, "Then I'm going to have to hospitalize you."

Ros stood up. She lifted her pipe high.

Behind her, the woman shrieked, cowering behind the couch.

Roz froze for a second. She thought, I'm really doing this.

It's my duty.

She brought the pipe down on Mark, hard, fracturing his right arm. He cried out in pain. Another blow to his torso prompted another sudden crack.

Ros dropped the pipe, and returned to her knees. She grabbed her boss by the shirt and lifted his head off the ground.

"Do you know why I am doing this?" She asked before punching him in the face. "Do you? Because someone was looking out for your son."

When she punched him again, blood began to roll down his chin.

"And because I made a promise," she spat, striking him once more.

Roseline let him drop.

She stood up, kicking him once more for good measure.

She grabbed her pipe, and glanced at the cowering woman in the living room. She thought with a sneer, You probably did nothing to help your son, either.

Ros looked down at Mark bleeding on the floor. She hung her head in silence for only a moment.

"I guess I won't be in to work tomorrow." She added, almost apologetically, "If you leave the cops out of this, you won't see me ever again."

She wasn't sure how vengeful Mark would be. Or how reliable the Changelings on the police force were at covering up things like this.

She opened the door.

Ros spat over her shoulder, "Remember tonight the next time you think about hitting your son."

As she stepped outside, the cold air that greeted her was a shock to her system. She hadn't realized how worked up and sweaty she had become from the brief tussle.

She shut the door behind her. She felt numb.

She started walking.

* * *

><p>She woke up to snow the next morning.<p> 


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter Eight**

The snow fell thick and wet on the ground outside.

Roseline wallowed through most of the morning inside, bundled up. She'd spent the previous night searching for the Tolltakers, hunting for them down at the empty VFW and the barren pub they frequented. But she found nothing. It was almost as if they had gone into hiding.

Around noon she cleaned off her car and drove to the auto center. She found Pete there, working on the transmission of a red Beetle.

He caught her eye and nodded solemnly. She nodded back.

She thought, _Mark must be in the hospital._

She headed to her work bench and started gathering her belongings. As she was putting the last of her tools away, Pete came up next to her.

He said, "What number should I tell the muscle car guys to call?"

Ros looked at him, surprised.

"What?" He smirked. "You don't think they'll let me or Mark touch them, do you?"

She jotted her number down for Pete, then silently packed her tools into her car.

Despite that it was still snowing, Ros drove around for a few hours after that. The plows couldn't keep up with the fresh layers of snow. It was dangerous to be out on the slippery roads, Ros drove on.

She parked outside the Tolltaker's pub later that night, but never got the nerve to go inside.

She proceeded home and curled up in bed, not even bothering with dinner.

* * *

><p>The snow continued for two more days. Ros spent a lot of time watching TV, eating Ramen, and drinking hot cocoa.<p>

On the third day of snow, she got into her jacket, woolen hat and gloves and went for a walk. Her head was still spinning: she'd had to take a bounty on her boss, the man she had defended in the first place, that landed her in service to the Knighthood.

She'd lost her job for them. All because they needed to test her. Test her?

She felt tears welling up as she dragged the thoughts around in her mind.

Her service was going to be up anyways! Why did they bother? If only the snow hadn't waited that extra night.

They'd tricked her into giving her word, and then they abused that oath. Grief welled inside her.

Her walk became longer and longer, until Ros finally realized where she was. She'd managed to walk to Main Street from her apartment. She gave a long look down the street to the pub. Their pub.

She checked her watch. Seven-nineteen.

_They might be there right now._

Just the thought of Flynn and the others tossing back beers while she suffered through this was enough to infuriate her. She marched up to the pub and pushed open the wooden door.

Empty. As always.

Except for the Knighthood sitting in their corner booth.

Roseline strode over to the table, finding Carson, Remus, Softee, Ox, and Flynn all seated.

From the edge of the booth, Flynn looked up at her and grinned. He always grinned.

Ros punched him in the nose.

Flynn's head recoiled. He grabbed at his face.

Carson laughed.

"Ow! Fuckin' ow!" Flynn yelled through his cupped hands. "I think you broke my nose!"

"You'll heal!" Ros spat.

The punch had fanned the flames of her rage.

"You set me up you, son of a bitch!" Her voice rose sharply as she spoke. "You knew who the mark was and you sent me to screw with his life! I could have gone my entire career without knowing what he was doing. And even if I had known, I wouldn't have done anything about it! I could have just kept my head down and done my job!"

"Ahem... " Remus cleared his throat. "I think you did get the job done."

Ros shot a glare at him.

Flynn was now stuffing pieces of napkin up his bleeding nose.

"You abused my oath," she said, her frustration mounting. "Just when I thought I could trust you."

"Aw, quit being a baby," Carson said. "We all had to beat up someone we knew. It's just hazing."

Ros lifted her fist to punch him.

He threw up his arms. "Not in the face!"

She settled for kicking his shin with one steel toed boot. He let out a satisfying yelp. His arms went down to his leg.

Then she punched him in the side of the head.

"Listen! Jesus! Listen! Stop hitting people!" Flynn pleaded. "It was a test, and you're right… We did abuse your oath. But we had to. It's the only way to know if someone is Knight material!"

Ros looked at him, venom in her flashing green eyes. "What does that mean?"

"Well…" Flynn got awkward and began fiddling with the napkin he had torn apart to stuff up his nose.

Ox put his hand on Flynn's shoulder. "I think Flynn is asking you to become a Tolltaker Knight. Formally."

Roseline fumed. Could they be serious? After all they had done, they were trying to recruit her?

"Why the hell would I join you guys?" Roseline shouted, "You just cost me my job!"

Flynn looked at her hopefully. "This could be your new job! Snow's fallen, so you'd get paid for what you do. You'd actually collect bounties for each job."

He climbed to his feet. He approached her like she was a wild animal.

He said, "You can't deny that you've felt great after a good fight, can you? The guys have all seen it. You're practically glowing when you come back from a bout."

Ros glared at him for a moment. He reached out a hand and touched her arm gently.

"I'm asking you, as the Knight Bannerette, to join us." Flynn kept his tone firm and sincere. "You're a good squire, and you'll be an even better knight. Each of the guys agrees that you are Tolltaker material."

Carson managed to add, "Yeah. You're tough as nails and bat-shit crazy to boot."

Flynn looked her in the eyes. "You proved yourself last night to us," he said, "and we will give you everything we have to offer. We'll defend you, aid you, support you… You're one of us. One of the pack."

Ros was having trouble building up her rage anymore. She managed to say, "Fuck you." And turned on her heels.

Before she could fully turn, she was yanked back by her hand.

Flynn fell to his knees, a humbling gesture, and pulled Ros' hands to his.

Flynn said firmly, "I swear on my title as Knight Bannerette, Roseline, I will not deceive you again."

Ros hesitated. He'd… just made a pact with her.

She thought, _He's that serious_?

She couldn't believe he'd make such an oath. On his title, no less.

She glanced at the other Knights. Ox and Remus watched her intently. Softee hid behind his beard, trying to detach himself from the spectacle.

Carson gave her two big thumbs up.

Could I really be part of a pack again?

Weird as they were, it seemed possible to Ros that she could count on these guys to have her back. And as much as she hated to admit it, letting her hunter out once in a while was a huge relief.

Plus, she did still need a job…

Ros looked back at Flynn, kneeling on the floor. Prostrate before her. Bloody napkin sticking out of his nose.

She felt a warm smile spread across her face.

"When do I start?"

* * *

><p><strong>Author Notes<strong>: Once again, thanks to OllieLemur for editing.

To my readers: You made it to the end! Huzzah!

If you liked Roseline's story, please REVIEW! I like being motivated to write more!

~Scrapmask

p.s. In case you were wondering where I got the title, it was from this quote I came across while writing it.

"The problem that has no name - which is simply the fact that American women are kept from growing to their full human capacities - is taking a far greater toll on the physical and mental health of our country than any known disease."

~Betty Friedan


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